Dear Laney,
I think I've mentioned here before that you're kooky for pirates; you even occasionally address your parents as "Mateys." So when Peg Peg found a brochure advertising a pirate adventure cruise, I knew we had to fit it in. The boys stayed back at the hotel (the scurvy swabs!) and the girls ventured forth to The Sea Gypsy.
In the time it took me to run to the bathroom, your grandmother had you outfitted in a leather pirate hat. Here are some phrases that grandparents pretend not to hear: "She doesn't need it." "It won't fit in the suitcase." "No, she can't wear it on the plane."
Though you were the littlest pirate, it didn't stop you from swashbuckling your heart out.
They dubbed you, "Lucky Laney." You got a tattoo on your arm, and a pirate vest and Peg Peg bought you a sword (after I put my foot down about the hat), and we all hopped onboard to look for the Pirate Pete who had made off with our treasure (or some such story). You got to shoot water from a cannon, heave-ho the old Jolly Roger, drink grog (which tasted suspiciously like A&W root beer), dance a pirate shuffle, and fill a goodie bag with yer booty.
Captain Crabby watched you run around the deck, hollering about how we need to hurry and find our "tweasure," and said, "Wow. She's spunky." This coming from a college-aged dude who plays a pirate for a living.
Avast, ye hearties!
Mom
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